


Whiskey

by weimar27



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-24
Updated: 2011-01-24
Packaged: 2017-10-17 06:06:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/173728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weimar27/pseuds/weimar27
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Late one night, they somehow fall together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whiskey

**Author's Note:**

> From [this](http://community.livejournal.com/blindfold_spn/3417.html?thread=3635801#t3635801) prompt at [](http://community.livejournal.com/blindfold_spn/profile)[**blindfold_spn**](http://community.livejournal.com/blindfold_spn/). The idea just called to me.

John looks over as Dean takes a long pull from a fifth of whiskey and is struck with the sudden realization that he is drinking with his son. The bottle of whiskey that Dean bought -- something far more expensive than they normally drink -- is half gone when it hits John like a sledgehammer. He'd forgotten, it'd been so easy and effortless to just talk to Dean.

Now, it's past midnight and they're practically falling asleep in their chairs.

"Bed," John declares a slight slur to his speech. He's a little wobbly on his feet, but makes it to where Dean is slouched on the chair, the alcohol hit him harder than he thought apparently. He gets an arm under Dean's shoulder and lifts him from the chair. His son’s heavier than expected, but he manages to drag Dean -- who's pretty much a dead weight -- to his bed. John yawns and absently hopes that no monsters attack them tonight, because even though they're good hunters there's no way that they'll be able to manage even a token fight considering how drunk they are.

Dean flops down on the bed, going down like a sack of potatoes. One of Dean’s damned long legs kicks out as he settles in, hooking around John’s leg and making him fall in between his son's thighs. Neither of them move for a few seconds and John can't explain why he doesn't push away; why he stays in this extremely sexual position with his son. Dean opens his eyes, and there's a hint of question in them. But his hands stay where they are -- crossed above his head in submission -- and he doesn't push John away. It's probably his own sick wishful thinking, but he thinks he sees a spark of lust in Dean's green eyes. John's hand moves to thumb at Dean's full bottom lip almost of it's own accord.

In a sensual movement of encouragement, Dean spreads his legs further and their cocks align. He can feel Is it for him? In a moment of insanity he blames on the alcohol, he removes his thumb and presses his lips lightly against Dean's. It could almost be construed as innocent, except everything about this situation is far from innocent. He decides that he can't do this and makes to pull away.

Dean grunts, his hands tangle in John's hair, and pulls him back down, smashing their mouths together. It's not really a kiss, John's too surprised to do anything but stay frozen like a dear caught in the headlights. Dean keeps trying to kiss him though, lips and tongue moving along his lower lip begging for entrance.

"Kiss me back," Dean whispers, he sounds pained. "Da - John kiss me back."

 _John_ , it sounds so wrong coming from his son's lips and not because he almost called him _Dad_. It's because it’s Dean's voice and it’s filled with a longing that shouldn't be there. There’s heat darkening his son’s eyes that shouldn’t be there. And it shouldn’t be making him feel like this is alright.

"Dean --" Dean's mouth cuts off his protest. His brain is screaming at him to run away, to bolt out the door, but his body wants him to stay. Despite his brain's objections and knowledge that this is wrong -- so very wrong -- he kisses back. Dean groans and pulls him closer, hand moving underneath his shirt as he hooks a leg around John's thigh the movement pulls their cocks closer together. John can feel himself harden. And as much as he shouldn't, he knows this isn't going to end until they both get off.

John pulls back, panting for air, and Dean makes a grunt of protest, pulling him back down and thoroughly kissing him. He tries again "Dean."

"John," Dean says with a cocky half-smirk, like he knows it'll piss John off calling him that. It still seems wrong, but it'd be worse if he called him Dad so John's grateful for that. Dean looks like he's about to say something, but John shuts him up by kissing him this time. Neither of them should be talking right now, it'll ruin the moment by forcing some semblance of reality into this situation.

It shuts Dean up. Their only communication is physical, tugging on each other's shirts to get the other to remove the offending piece of clothing, fumbling with the buttons and zippers on their jeans. Strange laughter followed by sweet kisses that are no less desperate or passionate for their softness. Somehow, John's brain is more focused on the feel of Dean's skin as he explores it with his hands than practical things, because they're naked.

Dean's partially in shadow, the only thing illuminating the room is the bedside lamp, but he looks almost ... well beautiful. His skin is surprisingly unmarred by the life they lead and it's all on display just for him. He wonders how many countless others Dean has been like this for. He stops that train of thought, puts his mind back in the moment. John trails a hand down Dean's chest traveling lower and lower until his hand rests on Dean's cock. It's hard and leaking and it’s for John, because of him.

Dean pulls him down for another kiss. Dean seems to enjoy kissing more than anything else. It's like he needs his mouth to be in constant contact with John's, because John hasn't gone more than a few seconds since they started this without his mouth on Dean's lips. It’s either deep and probing, hungry; or light and soft like he’s virgin all over again.

Dean jerks when John curls his fingers around the head of his cock, his other leg hooks around John's thigh when he begins pumping his hand up and down his son’s cock. Dean starts kissing him in earnest then, it muffles the moans and groans from his son. God he's giving his son a handjob. He wants to .... He breaks away and gets two fingers wet with spit, inserts them into Dean's entrance, where if he had the right materials he'd really like his cock to be. Dean's tight and hot, and his cock gets impossibly harder at the thought of being inside Dean. He wants to fuck his son, sink into that tight heat, and it makes him a sick individual. But he thinks Dean would let him, so they're both equally sick.

“God,” Dean moans. “Wish you could fuck me. Wish you were preppin’ me for your cock.” He fucks himself back on John's fingers. Dean fists John's cock. “Wish you were getting ready to fuck me with that big fat cock of yours.” Dean jacks John's cock with sure but deliberate strokes. “This could be my tight ass surrounding that big fat cock.” John starts fucking Dean's fist. “Yeah fuck my fist like you’d fuck me.” Dean clenches his hand, and John's motion around Dean's cock falters for a second before continuing. His fingers fuck into Dean harder. “Yes, like that ...” his voice sounds wrecked. “Fuck me.”

John decides that Dean and his incredibly dirty mouth needs to be shut up, so he latches his mouth to Dean's to keep it occupied that way. Dean doesn't seem to mind.

Dean comes hot and sticky on his hand. His hand still moving along John’s still hard cock. This seems to make Dean unhappy, and with a speed he didn't think possible John finds himself on his back legs splayed Dean between them.

“Wha ...?” His question dies in his throat when Dean swipes his wet tongue up John's cock from base to tip, when he pulls up swirling his tongue around the head, before sucking on the tip as he jacks the base with his hand. John can't hold back his groan, which seems to make Dean smile around his cock then start humming. The vibrations send John over the edge and he comes down Dean's throat.

Dean fucking swallows and if John could get it up he'd probably be hard again from the image.

"You like that?" Dean says as he wipes the droplets of come from his lips. And fuck if that isn’t a hot image. Dean lays on top of him, legs straddling his hips. John rests his hands on Dean's ass, tracing those smooth round cheeks. Dean nuzzles in his neck, mouthing at the collarbone. John's pretty sure, that like him, Dean's not going to be moving for a while. But God it feels good having someone in his arms, _Dean_ feels good in his arms.


End file.
